


Sacrifices and the Choices We Make

by CarrieStillLovesYou



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Draco is NOT a Malfoy, Draco is Remus and Sirius' son, F/M, M/M, Sirius Gets Out of Azkaban before first year
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-26
Updated: 2015-07-20
Packaged: 2018-04-06 06:24:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4211487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CarrieStillLovesYou/pseuds/CarrieStillLovesYou
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Draco Malfoy is not the son of Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy, but is instead the son of Remus Lupin and Sirius Black. On the day of his birth, his fathers entrusted him to Narcissa for safety. Now on the eve of his Eleventh Birthday, he is told the truth.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry this is so short but it was a plot bunny that just wouldn't leave me alone and I just had to get it out. I'm working on the first chapter and I don't know how long it will take me to finish it. I should have more time to write now, but i do get very dristacted easily . So keep this in mind, but I really do love this idea.

 

 **-+-Prologue-+-**  
_Fifth June Nineteen-Eighty_   


Narcissa couldn’t help but feel the slightest bit of compassion as she took in the appearance of her cousin. His face was drawn, tight and haunted; in his eyes, where normally there was a mischievous glint, was only desperation. Gone was the cocky Gryffindor bully, and in his place stood a very desperate man.

Narcissa should have been surprised with the unguarded emotion shown clear on her cousin’s face, but Sirius had always been an oddity in the Black family; he had never mastered the mask of indifference the Blacks were known for. But Sirius was a Gryffindor, and Gryffindors showed emotions, it was one of their many downfalls. Still something in the back of her head told her to listen to him, and not shut the door in his face.

“Narcissa,” he said, “I’ve come to you with a favour,”

 


	2. Chapter One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco gets a ton of information (and so do you)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, i didn't reach my goal of 2000 words but I came close at around 1770 words. felt like I owed it to you guys to update and well, you get a lot of information on this whole situation... now this next chapter will be with Harry and it will take place around the same time as Dudley's eleventh birthday, so we'll be skipping forward quite a bit. I really wanted to do some of Sirius' re-trail (or actual trial considering) but I had this idea for Dudley's birthday and how it goes well, wrong. I might do something else though but I really like this idea that I have for Dudley's birthday. So we'll see, but yeah...

**-+-Chapter One-+-**  
_Fourth June Nineteen-Ninety-One_  
  


Draco woke with a smile, in a day he would be eleven, and he would get his Hogwarts letter. Hogwarts was a magical castle in Scotland in which his parents, Lucius and Narcissa, went to school and were sorted into Slytherin House, the best Hogwarts House.

 Slytherin was the house where the noble and pure were sorted, they prided themselves on cunning and ambition. For Draco, there was no other house. Ravenclaw was for the bookish, they were smart, but lacking in drive; they became school teachers or researchers or writers, nothing compared to Slytherin House’s Ministers, barristers, and innovators. Slytherins were people who did great things, and Draco _wanted_ to do great things.

  Hufflepuff was perhaps the most pitiful house; their only notable trait was loyalty, and even then, how far did that loyalty go? Hufflepuffs were Herbologists, healers, and _very_ rarely were lowly ministry workers. The only house Draco would prefer being a _Hufflepuff_ too, would be Gryffindor, where the “brave” and “daring” are sorted. Gryffindors become Aurors, and Dragonologists, and _anything_ that puts them in the line of danger. They were plain reckless, and Draco was _not_ reckless.

His father was a Malfoy, and Malfoys were always Slytherin. Draco would be a Slytherin, he was sure of it. He would impress his father, if it was the last thing he did, because _he_ was a Malfoy, and it was only fitting.

Draco rose from his bed, a large four-poster canopy in silver and green, _they were_ the _only_ sensible colours, and called for his personal elf, Dobby. With a soft pop the wide-eyed House-Elf appeared.

“Good morning, Master Draco, what is yous be needing?” Dobby greeted excitedly, “Tomorrow is being Master Draco’s birthday, is Master being excited?”

“Good Morning, Dobby,” Draco returned the greeting, something his father had tried dissuading him of, after all House-Elves were merely that, _House-Elves_. They were not equals, or so his father said in that voice of his that demanded no deviance, but Draco greeted them anyway, “Yes, Dobby, I am excited, I will be going to Hogwarts soon,” this was the worst thing he could have said, and Draco immediately realized his mistake.

“Oh!” Dobby cried falling to Draco’s feet, “The little Master is growings up, HE NOLONGER NEEDS DOBBY!” the house-elf cried with large sobs.

“No! No, I need Dobby—I mean I’ll still need you Dobby,” He assured, and Dobby began to calm.

Dobby looked up with bright eyes, “Oh! Master Draco still want Dobby! Dobby is being so happy!”

And Draco smiled, before he realized what he was doing and stoped.

Malfoy’s did not smile, especially for house-elves.

 

**-+-**

 

Draco walked down the familiar long Manor corridors to the breakfast hall. Draco had made this pilgrimage for as long as he could remember, and it had never _not_ felt normal to him, at least, not until today. Something tingled in the air, promising something was to come, and Draco didn’t know how he felt about it.

An uncomfortable feeling of uncertainty crept onto his skin as he neared the door to the breakfast hall and the low murmurs of his parents’ voices hit his ears. He’d always had an unusually good sense of hearing, but now it was different, better, but, the same. _How odd_. 

 _“…can’t be serious…”_ it was his father; that Draco knew.

 _“…needs to know…”_ That was his mother, _“…not fair…”_

Draco wondered what they were arguing about. They did that quite frequently, but more so now, then they had previous. Draco had to wonder if it was because of him.

 _“…but he’s a werewolf—”_ and that caught Draco’s attention, _A werewolf? Who could they possibly be talking about?_ Then his mother said something that made Draco freeze.

“ _And he’s also Draco’s father_ ,” She had said this as Draco was opening the door.

The argument stopped immediately, and his mother turned to him as if she had not just turned his whole world on its head with one simple utterance. “Good morning, Darling. Tea?”

 

**-+-**

Remus Lupin was a tall, shabbily dressed man, who Draco did not properly remember. From what his mother—who wasn’t _really_ his mother, but would always _be_ his mother—had said, Remus was indeed his actual blood, along with her cousin, the notorious Sirius Black. Draco was not a Malfoy. Draco was a Black, and a Lupin, and apparently a half-werewolf. That news would not sit well in certain Pureblood circles, especially since Draco was not fully pureblood, his grandmother on the Lupin side, was _Muggle_.

Remus and Draco sat in silence for a long while, just looking at each other. There were scars along Remus’ face and arms. Draco wondered which were from the initial attack and which were from the werewolf himself. Draco tried to avoid Remus’ eyes, he was afraid that if they made eye-contact he’d forget himself and start asking question after question, forgetting everything Lucius and Narcissa had taught him. Draco found looking at the man’s brown hair was a good distraction; it made him wonder what he, Draco, really looked like under the glamours. Would he have curly black hair, or straight brown? Would he have green eyes, like Remus, or would he keep the silver of the Black family?

Before he noticed, he had asked a question, “Why?”

It was a long while before Remus spoke.

 “It was war, and Sirius and I—we were targets, more so than James and Lily at the time. It was before the prophecy, before Vol—You-Know-Who went after the Potters,” Remus’ voice trembled, the memories were obviously painful, but he continued, and Draco couldn’t help but feel the trickle of admiration settle in his heart _because_ he continued.

“You see, Sirius, as much as he despised it, was from an Ancient and Noble house, and a Dark one at that. You-Know-Who knew that, and he also knew that Sirius and I were together and that I was… what I am… and he didn’t like that. He also didn’t like that Sirius, a Pureblood from a Dark family, was openly defiant of Pureblood supremacy and associated with “Blood-Traitors” and Muggle-Borns.”  Remus had leant forwards onto his knees, his eyes were trained on his clasped hands, and his green eyes sparked with some emotion Draco was unaware of. “One night shortly after we found out we were going to have you, we were attacked at our flat,”

He looked up and met Draco’s eyes solidly for the first time since he had entered the manor. Draco noted that they were red around the irises, Remus was at a struggle; trying to hold back tears. “We didn’t want you to live like that, in constant fear that you would be attacked, or-or worse,” Draco had never seen this much free expression of emotion in his life.

Mother and Father—Narcissa and Lucius—never showed fear, or any sort of weakness. It made Draco think they were invincible… but it also made Draco feel as if he was disappointing them whenever he felt a swell of joy, or twinge of pity. The fact that Remus, an adult _and_ his father, showed that it was okay to feel things and that it didn’t mean he was weak, was empowering, and it made him feel more secure in who he was, that he could be upset, or happy, or sad; that he could _show_ he felt something without repercussions. 

“A week after the attack, Sirius and I began discussing how we could keep you safe. We talked about going under the fiedelius charm, but decided against it because we didn’t know how long we’d have to hide or how long the war would go on, and I didn’t want to risk being near you on Full Moons, I would never forgive myself if anything happened to you that I could have prevented. It was Lily who came up with the idea of placing you with another family. It was only going to be temporary, we talked about putting you with Andromeda and Ted, but Andie reminded us that they were just as much of a target as we were, Andie was a “blood-traitor” and Ted was Muggle-born.”

Draco studied Remus’ face; it was troubled, with deep worry lines. Draco saw, rather than felt, his hand reach out and settle on Remus’ knee. Remus fell out of his revere and looked to Draco with a thankful smile. Hesitantly, Draco smiled back.

“And my mum was sick, and wouldn’t have been able to take care of you, and Walburga was the last person we would give you to. We discussed having Lily and James take you in, but then Lily found out she was pregnant and then the prophecy happened and they went into hiding.” He licked his lips and continued, “It wasn’t until May that we finally started talking about giving you to Narcissa,” he said, and Draco noticed a slight tremor in his voice.

“Sirius was against it, he had… reservations… about how she and Lucius would treat you,” He looked up with a fond smile, “but we were out of options and I finally wore him down,” he started to laugh a heart broken laugh, and said, “Unfortunately it wasn’t until _after_ I had gone into labour that he finally agreed,” he started to cry, and Draco felt he should comfort Remus, his father, “sixteen hours later you were born and I had never seen anything so beautiful, I instantly fell in love,”

He smiled wistfully, “You were marvellous. You looked _just_ like Sirius, but with my hair, you were simply breath-taking. I swear you already had us wrapped around your little finger,” his smile turned into a frown, “and then we had to give you away,” more tears rolled down his cheeks, “and it broke my heart but it was what was best,”

Draco felt his throat tighten, “why didn’t you get me, you know after You-Know-Who fell?”

“I thought about it, I thought about it all the time, but with Sirius falsely accused in Azkaban, I wasn’t living well. I barely had enough for me, let alone you. Not to mention I was still hunting down Pettigrew, and I couldn’t let him hurt you,” he frantic now, “And everything happened so fast, James and Lily, and Sirius, and Harry, and you, and Peter, and I—just,” he broke out into sobs and Draco jumped of the couch and wrapped his arms around Remus—his father—and they cried, and it was the first time Draco had cried since he was four, and it was amazing. 

 

**-x-**


	3. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Its Dudley's eleventh birthday and wait, is that an Owl?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, second chapter. I want to thank my beta Aurelie, and all the people who commented and gave me kudos, you guys made me smile! Originally I had planned for Sirius to be in this chapter as well, but, well my hands went in another direction. THIS IS ALSO A NOTICE. THERE WILL BE MINOR OC's. Harry's class will be larger than in cannon. Just so you know.

**-+-Chapter Two-+-  
** _Twenty-Third June Nineteen-Ninety-One_

 

“Out! Get out! Now!” Came the shrill voice of Petunia Dursley, like nails on a chalkboard.

Her nephew, Harry Potter, glared from behind his cupboard door. She had ruined a wonderful dream of flying motorbikes, giant men, and grey eyes. He’d had the dream before, but it was good dream, not like the ones filled with green light and menacing laughter. With a glance at the sunlight drifting from under the cupboard door, Harry realised that today was his cousin Dudley’s birthday, his cousin’s eleventh birthday to be exact.

His cousin Dudley was… _odd_. Dudley seemed to have a split personality, because, one moment he would be ragging on Harry, and the next he’d be defending him. In Harry Potter’s opinion, Dudley Dursley didn’t make sense. Not one bit. Because Dudley wasn’t like Aunt Petunia or Uncle Vernon, Dudley was like Dudley, and that was enough for Harry to be confused where his loyalties lie. Dudley wasn’t cookie-cutter like his parents; Harry always knew where he stood with Vernon and Petunia, but he _never_ knew where he stood with Dudley.

Harry decided that he’d spent enough time with his musings and had better get out before Uncle Vernon dragged him out by his hair. So Harry pushed open the cupboard door and walked into the kitchen to find… his Aunt wasn’t there. Harry shook his head, Aunt Petunia had always started breakfast before she woke Harry up to finish it. Where was she?

“You heard her! GET OUT!” Uncle Vernon bellowed, and Harry could imagine quite vividly Uncle Vernon’s purple face that was usually reserved for him only.  Harry wondered who they were yelling at when a disdainful hoot came from the dining room. Harry blinked. Was that an Owl? Harry distantly remembered that Teacher had said that Owls were nocturnal. And besides that, what was an owl doing in the house?

Harry blinked as another hoot drifted from the dining room, followed by more of Aunt Petunia’s screeching and Uncle Vernon’s roars. With a hesitant glance, Harry began to step towards the noise.

 

**-+-**

 

Harry’s eyes widened when he took in the scene in front of him. Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon were chasing great owl around the table. If Harry weren’t afraid of their anger being turned on him, he might have laughed. It really was quite comical. Uncle Vernon was flinging a chair in all directions, missing the large grey owl by leaps and bounds. His Aunt Petunia, who was very much taller than her husband, was cowering behind the round man, covering her blonde hair and hugging a broom to her chest. Harry was so invested in watching his Aunt and Uncle chase the owl that he didn’t notice that Dudley had snuck down the stairs and was now standing next to him. Dudley lent towards him, his eyes not leaving his parents.

“How long have they been doing this?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” Harry answered.

It was then that that the hilarity of the situation became too much to bear and they both started laughing.

In that second Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon stopped running and glared at Harry. They were going to blame him for this, he just knew it. Uncle Vernon’s mouth opened in what Harry had no doubt would be a roar, but stopped when the owl hooted and swooped right towards Dudley.

Everyone froze as the owl landed on Dudley’s shoulder. Dudley only looked mildly surprised and blinked. After a moment more of stunned silence, Dudley’s hand slowly rose to the letter clasped in the owl’s beak. After the letter had been retrieved the owl flapped its grey wings and flew out the open window without as much as a backwards glance. Dudley watched the owl until it was just a dot in the distance and then read the emerald-green calligraphy out loud.

“Mr. D. Dursley. The Largest Bedroom. 4 Privet Drive. Little Whinging. Surrey,” Aunt Petunia’s eyes widened.

“No!” She screeched and leapt forwards, but it was too late. Dudley had already broken the wax seal and opened the yellow envelope.

 “HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY,” he began and Uncle Vernon’s face went from red to green like a traffic light, “Headmaster: ALBUS DUMBLEDORE (Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)—wow this guy’s important!” Dudley laughed, and then continued. Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia seemed too shocked to move.

 “Dear Mr. Dursley, We are pleased to inform you that you have a place at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment. Since you are Muggle-born, the school will be sending a Professor to explain all you will need to know about the Wizarding World and Hogwarts. Please expect Professor Snape no later than two this evening. Term begins on 1 September. We await your owl by no later than 31 July. Yours sincerely, Minerva McGonagall Deputy Headmistress,” Dudley laughed again, “Yuu was right! I am a Wizard! Imagine that!”

“A wizard?” Harry asked before he could stop himself. Harry had learned early on not to ask questions, they got you in trouble.

“Yeah, and so are you, Yuu says you’re famous,” Dudley nodded.

“Me? I don’t think so,” Harry said earnestly.

“No! You really are!” Dudley was instant, “and so are Aunt Lily and Uncle James, apparently you defeated this evil wizard named You-Know-Who when you were a baby, and he tried to kill you, but you didn’t die! And-and that’s how you got your scar!” Dudley’s blue eyes were bright with excitement, and it seemed it was catching because Harry suddenly felt excitement creep into his bones as well.

“STOP THAT NONSENSE THIS INSTANT!” Uncle Vernon thundered, and he had never looked so angry. Aunt Petunia was cowering, from what, Harry was unsure. Uncle Vernon turned to Harry, “This is your fault! You turned my boy into a FREAK! We swore when we took you in that we’d stop all this freakish nonsense, even if it meant beating it out of you! And this is how you repay us!” his face was beyond purple and he took giant steps towards Harry. His arm was raised as if he was going to strike him, and instinctually, Harry covered his face and cowered from his Uncle’s meaty fists, but they never came because suddenly Uncle Vernon hit the opposite wall with a loud THUD and Harry was sure that Uncle Vernon had broken the wall when he hit it.

Uncle Vernon wasn’t moving and Harry was sure he was unconscious. Harry’s eyes were wide behind his glasses and he was breathing heavily. Aunt Petunia suddenly sparked back into being and gasped a very shriek like gasp. She ran towards Uncle Vernon’s prone body, but tripped over the chair that Vernon had been wielding earlier, and crawled the rest of the way. She cried as she pulled Uncle Vernon’s block like head into her lap. Her hands shook as she touched Uncle Vernon’s pale face, she cried harder when she pulled one of her hands back and it was covered in blood.

“Y-you did this!” Aunt Petunia’s eyes were wide and glassy, and Harry was about to agree with her and apologise, when he noticed her eyes weren’t on him, they were on Dudley.

And then the door chimed.

 

**-+-**

 

Draco frowned as he stared at 4 Privet Drive. It was small, and unordinary, with its manicured rosebushes and white siding—it looked exactly like every other house in the neighbourhood. Draco found himself leaning into Remus, shying from the odd Muggle houses. He couldn’t believe that _this_ was where someone like _Harry Potter_ lived. In fact Draco couldn’t believe that _anyone_ would live somewhere _so_ boring. A strange sound, loud like thunder, rumbling from the yard of the house next to 4 had Draco burrowing further into his father’s side.

Remus noticing his son’s distress, smiled comfortingly, “Don’t worry, it’s just a mower,”

Draco frowned sceptically, but loosened his grasp on Remus’ robes. There was a sound of dull thudding like someone running, and Draco turned to find a muggle dressed in odd clothing, wearing something like earmuffs on their ears, jogging down the sidewalk. Draco frowned, Muggles were odd. Draco turned his head back to the door just as it opened and the faint metallic scent of blood wafted to his nose, and no doubt Remus’, as a befuddled and panicked Harry Potter formed the words, “Help, please, my Uncle!” and then ran back in the house.

 

**-+-**

 

 

The man at the door followed Harry into the Dursley home and had immediately set to fixing up Uncle Vernon. He had pulled out a polished stick, that Harry had wanted— _instinctively_ —to call a wand, and started humming in Latin. Harry had the distinct feeling that if Uncle Vernon weren’t hurt, Aunt Petunia would have never let the stranger get so close to her or Vernon. Especially since he brandished a wand, and his clothes were less than… normal.

“Don’t worry,” said a soft voice, and for the first time Harry noticed that the stranger had not been alone. “Remus is good at healing charms. Your Uncle will be fine,” Harry then turned and came almost face-to-face with one of the prettiest boys he had ever seen. Normally pretty wasn’t word that came to mind when looking at a eleven year old boy, but Harry couldn’t think of another word that could describe the creature in front of him. The boy had light brown hair, akin to the man called Remus, which fell loosely to his jaw. His features were youthful, but aristocratic; he had high, pointed cheekbones and a heart shaped face with a pointed chin, his nose was slightly long, but thin, and upward curved, but what really caught Harry’s attention was his eyes. At first glance, they were grey, but if you looked further they were molten silver, scorching with intensity, and a fire that Harry was drawn too, like moth to flame.  Harry realised that he had not spoken, and had instead been staring— _openly_ —at the grey-eyed boy, and heat rushed to his cheeks.

“U-Uh,” he spluttered, and Dudley, who had been watching from the corner of his eye, smirked. “Th-thank you,”

“No problem, it just the truth, I’m Draco by the way, Draco M— _Black-Lupin_ ,” he corrected himself, but Harry didn’t notice.

“Harry,” Harry said bashfully, “Harry Potter,”

“I know,” Draco said with a smile, “everyone knows who you are,” and Harry didn’t know how he felt about that. Then Draco said something that spun Harry’s head around, “You’re my god-brother you know, twice over,”

“What!” Harry choked.

“Yeah, our dads were mates!”

Harry was too shocked for words. He didn’t know what he could say, and luckily he didn’t have to say anything, because Remus had finished with Uncle Vernon and had floated him into the living room, and Aunt Petunia, who had been uncharacteristically quiet, shouted, “I want you all out! Out! It was bad enough when it was just Lily and the boy! But, my own son?” She was crying, and she sounded so pained, so betrayed, “GET OUT! And never come back!”

In that moment, Harry couldn’t tell who was more hurt, Dudley, or Aunt Petunia. 

 

**-x-**


End file.
